


Mortuus Loqueris Ad

by jackabelle73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Revelry, Rumbelle Revelry 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 13:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12458700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabelle73/pseuds/jackabelle73
Summary: While exploring the contents of her new library in the Dark Castle, Belle finds a dusty book that presents an irresistible opportunity.





	Mortuus Loqueris Ad

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic for the Rumbelle Revelry 2017. The prompt I used was: old book in the back of the library. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I used Google Translate for the title. If it’s wrong, I apologize for the offense against the Latin language.

The Dark Castle, always too big and intimidating with its empty echoing hallways and never-ending collection of oddities, was even lonelier when Rumplestiltskin left for one of his deal-making trips. It was peaceful when he was gone, in a way. She didn’t have to worry about him lurking around every corner to bark a command as soon as he saw her, nor fear his unpredictable moods. But there was only so much dusting that one maid could do, especially since he’d forbidden her to set foot in the West Wing. The parts of the castle she was permitted to enter were usually clean, just one day after his departure. Which left her very little to do except wait for him to return.

At least now she had her library… and oh, what a library it was! There were so many books! Adventure and history, geography and romance, politics and comedic play scripts. Belle had yet to explore every shelf. Each time she told herself that she would at least skim the titles of every book in the library before starting to read, she’d inevitably see a title that looked too intriguing to not look at more closely. She’d pull it off the shelf, just to read the first page, and then look up hours later at the setting of the sun or Rumplestiltskin’s irate call for his afternoon tea, to realize that she’d spent hours reading.

Perhaps this time, she’d make it all the way through. She knelt by the lowest shelf in the corner furthest from the stairs, and began skimming the titles. By the time she’d straightened up and was browsing the books at shoulder height, she’d already seen several that she wanted to pull off the shelf, but had resisted the urge. She had to get a stepladder to allow her to see the two highest shelves, balancing on the highest step of the ladder and gripping a shelf for support, but she finally made it through that entire bookcase without pulling a single book for closer perusal.

Proud of herself, she decided to look over the titles of the books on the next shelf before getting down. She was already up here, after all, and she could see the titles from here. It was when she grasped the topmost shelf to lean over that she felt it. Another book. Not on a shelf, but on top of the bookcase, where there was no possibility she’d ever see it from below. Mindful of her footing, she raised up on her toes till she could get a good enough grip on the book to pull it toward her.

It was covered in dust on the side that had been exposed, but the front cover had lain facedown and was clean enough to see. It was in a language that she knew only a little of, but she definitely recognized the word for spells.  This was odd. Every book in her library had been chosen for her and placed there by Rumplestiltskin. Why would he add a spell book to her collection, as if he wanted her to read it, when he’d been adamant since her arrival that she stay away from his magical items and spell books? Did he want her to read this one? Then why was it hidden away on top of the bookcase, as if he  _didn’t_  want her to find it?

Any further perusal of the library shelves was forgotten as Belle stepped down to the floor carefully, and held the book out a window to dust it off. The early afternoon sun reflected off the dust motes as they floated away, but Belle hardly noticed. She opened the book slowly, careful of its cracked spine, and laid it flat on the nearest table. She turned the pages one by one, only reading the names of the spells. The language was coming back to her as she read.

Most of the spells seemed to fulfill some nefarious purpose, which she supposed was fitting for a book found in the castle of the Dark One. Some of the pages were illustrated, and Belle flinched at the graphic depictions of these dark spells’ effects on their unfortunate victims. But there was also a spell for inflicting uncontrollable flatulence on an enemy; the book advised that it was most useful if used right before a formal dinner with in-laws, or a sensitive diplomatic negotiation. Belle chuckled to herself at that one, then gasped as she turned the page and saw an illustrated spell for  _Erectus Ginormicus_. She knew enough to know what that drawing was supposed to be, and assumed that the drawing of a woman’s dainty hand was given for scale. Was that what all men were hiding in their breeches? But surely, it wasn’t like that before the spell. She thought of how tight Rumplestiltskin’s leather breeches were, and surely, he couldn’t fit something that large in there. She stared at the illustration for a long time, looking at the size comparison in the book and then at her own hand, trying to imagine it, before forcing herself to turn the page. The drawing was undoubtedly exaggerated.

She was almost to the end of the book when another title caught her eye.  _Mortuus Loqueris Ad_. Belle mouthed the words to herself, trying to remember long-ago lessons for translating this dead language. Dead! That was it! Mortuus meant dead, and loqueris was some form of to talk, so this title meant….  _Talking to the Dead_.

Her heart leapt. Mother. She could talk to Mother. She could finally find out what really happened that day her mother died, because Belle had never been sure that Father had told her the whole truth. And she could tell her mother how sorry she was for what happened, and that she loved her. She could tell her everything.

She ran her finger down the list, relieved when she recognized all the ingredients. The spell didn’t even look that difficult… could she do this by herself? Rumplestiltskin would be furious with her if she entered his tower workroom to get these items, but… this was a chance to talk to her mother. She couldn’t miss this opportunity. He hadn’t killed her when she released his prisoner, so it was doubtful that he’d kill her over a few dried herbs.

Acting quickly before she lost her nerve, she tucked the book under her arm and ran down the library staircase, down the length of several corridors, and up the steps that led to his workroom. Would she even be able to enter, she wondered as she approached. She’d been up here before, to bring his tea to him, but only when he was in the tower and expecting her.

She held her breath as she gained the top step and crossed the threshold, but nothing happened. Relieved, she set about finding what she needed as quickly as possible, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder. This reminded her a bit of being a young child and sneaking into the kitchen when she smelled cookies, hiding under the table and swiping a few from the cooling rack, running away before the cook could catch her. But her reward this time was much bigger than a warm gooey treat.

Her hands shook a bit as she measured and poured, the book open beside her. The flask was over a flame, the liquid within bubbling just a bit and turning red, then a lovely blue. The spell said that when it had rotated through those two colors and started to turn purple, that was the moment to add the final ingredient and say the name of the person you wanted to summon.

Belle was so intent on the flask, holding the final pinch of herbs over it and watching the color, that she didn’t notice Rumplestiltskin’s arrival. Usually, she could tell when he left the castle, and when he came back, even if she didn’t witness it. The castle felt different when he was here, as if his power changed very air around him.

“Belle! What are you doing? Get away from that!”

She jolted at his sharp command, the last ingredient falling from her hand and into the bubbling potion that was still pale blue. Horrified, she watched it change… not to purple, but to green.

“Colleen Belle French!” she called out, even as the concoction turned black and started to boil over. She knew, even as her mother’s name left her lips, that it wasn’t going to work.

“What have you done?”

Rumplestiltskin pulled her back, forcing her to finally acknowledge him.

“How… how did you…”

“Do you think I don’t know when someone tampers with my magic, dearie? What were you thinking, calling all the dead here?”

“No! Not all of them! Just my mother! I only–” Belle coughed, as black smoke filled the tower room.

Then the voices began… just two or three at first, then more till they overlapped each other and it was impossible to make out what they were saying. Women, men, children, speaking so many languages all at once that she couldn’t translate a single word of it. Were they all spirits? But how? Belle had doubted her ability to summon even one departed soul, but a room full of them?

The black smoke was replaced with the crimson of Rumplestiltskin’s transportation magic, and Belle found herself in the Great Hall, still coughing as she expelled the last of the magical fog from her lungs.

“Are you alright?” Rumplestiltskin was holding a glass of water out to her, looking concerned.

She drank it, slowly, feeling the spasms in her throat ease, and could finally speak again.

“I think so.”

“What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Don’t you know what today is?” She shook her head. “The Day of Hallows? Ever heard of it, dearie?”

“When the veil grows thin,” she whispered. It made sense now. That was why she’d been able to call forth the spirits, even though she possessed no magical ability. The barrier between this world and the next was already fragile. The full consequences of what she’d done became clear, and she looked up at him in horror. “You can send them back, can’t you?”

“Uh, uh, uh….” he chanted, wagging a finger at her. “As a matter of fact, I can’t.”  

“What? But… you’re the Dark One! Surely you can–”

“The Dark One wields great magical power, but he does not decide the rules of magic. And those rules say that only the person who summoned a spirit from the other side, can send it back.”

“Me?”

“You made a mess of things, dearie. I suggest you clean it up. Sooner rather than later. I’ve confined the spirits to the tower, but I’d like to have my workroom back.” He pivoted, walking briskly toward the door.

“But how?” Belle ran after him, catching his arm. He stopped and looked at her fingers, there on his silk shirt, and she let go. “Rumplestiltskin, I’m sorry. It was an accident; I only wanted to speak to my mother.”

“How did you find that spell, anyway? Were you rummaging through my things?”

“Never! The book was in my library. I thought you wanted me to have it!”

“It shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t meddle in things you don’t understand, Belle.” His expression softened. “Dead is dead. You can’t bring your mother back.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to bring her back to life, just talk.” She stopped herself, because it hardly mattered now. “Rumplestiltskin, I’m sorry… but if it’s true that I’m the one who has to send them back, can you at least tell me how?”

He sighed, twirled his hand in the air, and the book appeared in her hands. “The counter spell is on the next page. Call me when you’ve figured out the details, and I’ll transport you through the barrier I’ve cast, and stay with you while you cast the spell. I can’t cast it for you, but I can protect you while you do it. Looks like I’ll have to make my own tea this afternoon, as my little maid is too busy summoning the dead.”

He sauntered away, hands behind his back, and Belle took comfort from his relaxed demeanor. Surely, he wouldn’t be strolling to the kitchen to make tea if they were in any immediate danger from the spirits confined to the tower.

She read the spell quickly, calming further when she realized that the reversal spell was just as straightforward as the summoning had been. Surely it shouldn’t be this easy to summon the dead? Even if it was only on one day of the year?  And if it was so easy, then… why hadn’t it brought her mother?

 _Focus, Belle._  She needed to put those wayward spirits back. And to think, she’d been concerned that working as a maid would be boring. She found Rumplestiltskin in the kitchen, sipping tea from the chipped cup that he always used. He affected a put-upon expression when she announced she was ready, but she was beginning to get the impression that he was amused by all this.

“Can’t I even finish my tea?”

“I’ll make you more after we’re done,” she promised. She’d asked him, when she first arrived, why he had her make his tea and bring it to him rather than conjuring it with magic.  _It just doesn’t taste the same_ , was his explanation. But Belle strongly suspected that he enjoyed her company at tea time. No matter what he was working on, he would set it aside when she arrived with the tray every morning and afternoon.  _I suppose you want some too,_  he’d say when he saw the second cup.  _Just another excuse to avoid the dusting?_  But he never protested when she did indeed pour a cup for herself and sit next to him. Sometimes they talked; sometimes they only sat in companionable silence. She’d wondered, more than once, how many years it had been since he’d had someone with whom to share tea time. “But perhaps we should tend to our ghost problem?”

“Your ghost problem, dearie,” he reminded her, before his magic swept her up and they were back in the tower.

The spirits were still there, still all talking at once. It was difficult to concentrate with all their voices creating such a din, but none of them did more than talk. If she ever would have been in danger from them, she clearly wasn’t with the Dark One at her side.

Once again, she measured and poured ingredients, this time waiting for the color progression to reverse itself. It started off green, then changed to blue, and when it turned red she dropped in the last ingredient and pronounced the words that would – hopefully – send back all the spirits en masse. No need for specific names with this spell, thank the gods. She’d have been here all night.

At first, she wasn’t sure if it had worked. Then she noticed that the voices were becoming fewer, the volume in the tower decreasing little by little till only one voice remained, that of a small child singing a nursery rhyme to itself. Then that voice was gone too.

“Is it done?” she asked Rumplestiltskin.

“Mmm…yes. I don’t feel any more spirits.” He waved his hand and the spell-making paraphernalia on the table disappeared. “I’ll have that book back, missy. You never should have had it in the first place, and we don’t want you tempted to try this again.”

He held his hand out, and Belle reluctantly handed the spell book over. She had been thinking of trying again. The spell clearly worked, it just needed tweaking. Perhaps by next year, Rumplestiltskin would trust her enough to help her with the spell? Perhaps she could try contacting her mother again, on the next Day of Hallows?

“Belle…only those who regret their deaths can be summoned by this spell. Its purpose is to give them a chance to resolve that regret. You told me that your mother died while saving your life.” She nodded, feeling the tears slip down her cheeks despite her efforts to hold them back. “If she didn’t appear even when you said her name, that means that she doesn’t regret sacrificing herself for you. She would do the same again, and has nothing to resolve.”

“Truly?” she asked, crying openly now.

“Yes. Now… before you make my tea, you should return to your library and look for a certain book.”

“What book?” she asked, confused.

“Look in the book case to the left of the center window, on the shelf that’s eye level for you. I dare say, you’ll know it when you see it.”

He gave her a mysterious smile as he waved his hand, and she found herself standing in her library again, where all this had started. Still not sure what his instructions were leading her to, she approached the books to the left of the center window. She trailed her finger across the spines of the books, reading each title carefully. She didn’t want to miss it, whatever it was. She pulled out something with spell in the title… surely, he wasn’t directing her to another book of magic?  _He Cast a Spell on Her_. Belle snorted as she realized from the provocative illustration on the front that it was a romance novel. Definitely not that one. She slid it back on the shelf and continued, reading each title one by one….

 _Her Handsome Hero_. She caught her breath when she saw the distinctive blue spine with the gold lettering. She pulled it out, afraid to believe what she suspected. Opening to the title page, she saw her mother’s handwriting.

_To my daughter on her sixteenth birthday… may you always live a life of compassion, honesty, and courage. Love, Mother._

She closed the book and held it to her face. She could almost smell her mother’s perfume still lingering on the pages.

“Thank you, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered, feeling somehow sure that he would hear her.

“Belle!” His voice, echoing through the halls and up the library staircase, made her jump. “Where’s my tea?”

Back to their normal routine, then. Belle smiled to herself as she kissed the cover of  _Her Handsome Hero_  before leaving the tower, taking it with her. She’d fetch Rumplestiltskin’s tea, and sit down to drink a cup herself. Later this evening, when all her chores were done and the full moon had risen, and he settled at his spinning wheel for the evening, she’d sit next to the fire in the great hall and read. He’d never accept verbal thanks for his kind gesture in bringing her book here. After all, the Dark One had a fearsome reputation to uphold. But he would see her smiling as she read, and he would know. After just a few weeks in the Dark Castle, they were starting to understand each other. They didn’t need a spell to communicate; sometimes, they didn’t even need words.

**Author's Note:**

> This one ended up being fun to write, even though I didn't know what to do with it at first. Or more precisely, I thought I knew what I was going to do with the prompt as soon as I saw it, but then realized that I couldn't do justice to that idea while also keeping the fic under a manageable word count for a one-shot that I could post for Revelry. So at the last minute, I scrapped that idea and just started writing, hoping I'd figure something out as I went along. By the end, I felt like this should be titled: TL;DR: the tale of how Belle's copy of Her Handsome Hero ended up at the Dark Castle.


End file.
